Chapter Five: Pansy’s Birthday Party
As the term went on, Harry discovered that he was slightly growing bored with his classes. Early in the year, he had been fascinated with the simple prospect of doing magic. Now, the lustre had worn of, and he was beginning to realize that he was at school, which required doing work and listening to teachers as they gave lectures. History of Magic, taught by the ghost of Professor Binns, was notoriously sleep-inducing. The class had so little to do with the actual practice of magic that Harry and Draco would alternate taking notes while the other slept through the lecture.
Professor Quirrell’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class was surprisingly tedious, as well. Harry had high hopes for the class – what could be more interesting than an entire class about fighting, after all – but Quirrell taught predominantly by lecture. This was an odd choice, given Quirrell’s notorious stutter. Harry stayed awake and paid attention, because he wanted to learn magic, but he always left the class with a headache. Probably from Quirrell’s stutter.
Potions with Professor Snape had improved, even though he needed quite a bit of help from Draco. Harry had begun to receive the benefits of Snape’s Slytherin favouritism, and that was just fine with Harry.
Charms had proved to be Harry’s favourite subject, with its large amount of wandwork and spellcasting. Although Harry had lagged significantly behind the magically raised students at the start of the year, he discovered quickly that he had a natural talent for charms work. He could think of at least one troll who could attest to his skill at the levitation charm. In Charms, Harry felt most like a wizard, and he devoted extra time to studying. Because many of the Charms had practical applications – levitating trunks, repairing broken items, tickling classmates – Harry found plenty of opportunities to practice.
In the early spring, Pansy decided to throw herself a birthday party in the Slytherin common room. Harry knew that Pansy wanted to do something for her birthday, but he was surprised by the scale of her plan. Her party was announced at breakfast when over forty owls simultaneously swarmed over the Slytherin table, delivering absurdly ornate invitations.
As the week progressed, Harry heard many of the upper-year Slytherins grumbling about Pansy’s party: Pansy was arrogant, Pansy was presumptuous, Pansy didn’t know her place. Pansy apparently heard the rumblings, as well. Exactly one week after her invitations had been delivered, another parliament of owls bombarded the Slytherin table, this time delivering supplementary notices promising live entertainment, elite catering and a walking birthday cake in the shape of Gilderoy Lockhart.
The murmurs among the upper-year Slytherins quickly ceased. Nobody wanted to risk being un-invited.
Two weeks before the party, Harry found Draco lying in their dormitory, flipping through a World’s Edge clothing catalogue. Next to him was a piece of parchment covered with notes. On the pages of the catalogue, well-dressed wizards laughed on boats, smiled while eating fruit salad, and tossed Quaffles to one another in clothing not at all suited for sport. Occasionally, they stood on beaches with similarly well-dressed witches.
–What are you wearing to the party?†Draco asked, without looking up.
–Er, my robes?†Harry looked down at his clothes. Nothing was wrong with them that he could see.
–Harry. Please. I’m trying to decide and you’re not being helpful at all.â€
–I was serious,†Harry said.
Draco looked up and saw that Harry was, in fact, serious. –Muggle raised. Harry, you can’t just wear your normal school robes. You’ll be laughed out of Slytherin. This is an event. You have to carefully consider what you wear.†Draco turned back to the catalogue. –Hopefully, you’ll wear something new,†he said, half to himself.
–Why does it matter?â€
–Some days, I think you’re completely hopeless.†Draco made another note on his parchment, then sat up and closed the catalogue. –What you wear makes a statement. It says ‘I’m serious’, or ‘I’m playful’, or ‘your party is so shameful I hardly dressed up’, or ‘I’m such a nitwit that I didn’t know how to dress up properly’.â€
–Hey!â€
–It’s true,†Draco said with a shrug. –Whether you want to or not, you’ll be making a statement with what you wear. Here’s a good catalogue. I picked out what I want, so you can keep it.â€
Harry took the catalogue. –Can’t I just copy from your order?â€
–No, you cannot. If you did, your clothes would say, ‘I’m not able to dress myself’, and my clothes would say, ‘I’m dumb enough to wear the exact same clothes as my best friend’.†Draco shook his head. –Choose something for yourself, for both our sakes.â€
Later that night, Harry sat on a couch in the Slytherin common room, flipping through the World’s Edge catalogue over and over. Nothing made sense to Harry. In the Muggle world he had been forced to wear Dudley’s hand-me-downs, but at least he understood what clothing items were, even if he didn’t understand fashion. The wizarding catalogue contained items that Harry could barely comprehend. The whip-crack ties, for instance, appeared to be neck ties which would untie themselves and snap at the faces of passers-by. The eruptorlinks that were worn on the cuffs of dress shirts seemed to fire small sets of magma every ten to fifteen minutes. At one point, Harry thought he was looking at a coat, only to discover that the item was intended to be worn as a hat.
Harry closed the catalogue with a grunt of frustration.
–Having a hard time with clothes?â€
Harry looked up. Tracey Davis was sitting in a chair across from him, but Harry hadn’t noticed her sit down. The blonde girl had her legs curled up underneath her.
–I’m trying to figure out what to wear for Pansy’s party, but I can’t make sense of anything,†said Harry.
–Why don’t you wear something you already have? It won’t be new, but you won’t have to worry.â€
Harry could feel himself blushing slightly. –All I have are school robes, actually.â€
–Oh. That is a problem then.†Tracey walked over to the couch and sat down next to Harry. –Let’s have a look. We’ll find you something good. Was there anything you liked?â€
Harry pointed at a robe in the catalogue. –I don’t like this robe, but it’s black so I wouldn’t have to buy new pants.â€
–Black never matches black.â€
–Huh?â€
–These clothes are all made from different fabrics and different weaves, and then they’re dyed differently. Unless it’s from the same company, same material, same batch, it won’t match. Even then, sometimes not.â€
Harry nodded as if he understood. Davis continued to speak, staring at the catalogue as she flipped from page to page.
–The worst thing anyone can do is try to match, and fail,†Tracey said. –The party is soon, so you won’t have any time to return and re-order. That means we should stick with neutrals or colour compliments. You’ll probably need new everything.†The words coming out of Tracey’s mouth were as strange to Harry as all the spells he had learned at Hogwarts.
–How about this, then?†Harry pointed at another robe.
Tracey clucked her tongue. –You’re much more of a winter than a summer.â€
–What?â€
–That’s far too red-orange. You need a blue-red.â€
–What?!â€
–You really were muggle raised, weren’t you?†Tracey had moved on from robes to ties in the catalogue.
–Why do people keep saying that?â€
–I’ll just pick something for you, Harry. Thank me after the party, please.†Tracey never looked up from the pages of World’s Edge. Harry resigned himself to looking over Tracey’s shoulder, his clothing no completely out of his hands.
On the evening of the party, Harry dressed himself in his new robes, new pants, and new shirt, new tie, even new socks. The only things that weren’t new were his shoes. And his underwear. Harry wasn’t going to discuss that with a girl.
As he stood in front of the mirror in his dormitory, he had to admit: Davis knew what she was doing. His robes were dove grey, and his pants were dark charcoal with ash grey socks. His shirt was slate grey and had heather grey pinstripes. Harry’s tie, however, was solid yellow. The yellow was so blinding that Harry was convinced the colour could not have been created without magic.
–Can’t I wear something other than grey?†Harry had asked Tracey when the clothes arrived.
–No. It’s a look.â€
–What colour are my robes again?â€
–Dove.â€
–Dove is a kind of grey?â€
–Yes.â€
–Do I have to wear a yellow tie?â€
–Yes. It’s an accent piece.â€
–You sound like you’re decorating a house.â€
–You’re acting like a house.â€
–That doesn’t make sense.â€
–Neither does your inability to dress yourself.†And that had been the end of it.
Draco came up behind Harry in the dormitory, taking a moment to appraise his friend’s state of dress. –You look respectable,†Draco said. –How did you manage that?â€
–Davis picked everything out. I’m just wearing it.â€
–Yikes.†Draco made a face. –Why Davis? I’m sure Pansy would have helped you.â€
–Davis offered,†Harry said. –What’s wrong with that?â€
–She’s a weird one,†Draco said.
–Weird how?†Harry hadn’t noticed anything that was particularly wrong with Davis. She was quiet, and kept to herself. Her only friend seemed to be Daphne Greengrass.
Draco shrugged. –I’m just saying that I wouldn’t trust her to dress me. Then again, I’ve been able to dress myself for years. How many different kinds of grey are you wearing exactly?â€
Harry furrowed his brow and glared at his friend. –Shut it, Draco.†He paused for a moment. –Five.â€
Draco laughed. –Come down to the common room. The party’s about to –– Before Draco could finish his sentence, the boom of music began playing through the Slytherin common room. –Strike that. The party has started. Let’s make our appearance, shall we?â€
Almost all of Slytherin gathered in the common room. Several tables covered in plates of food were pushed up against one wall. Charmed servingware hovered over the buffet, threatening to dump food onto anything plate-shaped that happened to pass by. On the opposite side of the room was a live band, comprised of two recently graduated Slytherins and the least famous member of the moderately famous, but broken up wizarding band Wandcast. A six foot tall animated birthday cake stumbled through the room. Harry couldn’t say whether or not the cake looked like Gilderoy Lockhart, but it did look delicious.
When Pansy saw Draco and Harry, she squealed and skipped over. –You boys look so cute! Thank you for coming to my party!â€
–Er, no problem,†said Harry.
Draco took Pansy’s hand and brushed it lightly with his lips. –Pansy, I would never miss such an auspicious event.â€
Pansy smiled and took Draco’s arm. –Let’s go say hello to Blaise and Theo,†she said, pulling Draco toward Zabini and Nott, a pair of first year boys. Draco looked back at Harry and shrugged, then allowed himself to be led through the room.
Harry, suddenly without his best friend, realized that he had never been to a party before, and that he had no idea what to do with himself. For lack of a better plan, he wandered toward the food and selected a few tasty looking items. All too quickly, Harry found himself with a plate of food, a glass of pumpkin juice, but still no idea of what to do with himself.
–Harry! Over here!†Daphne Greengrass, another first year, was waving at Harry from across the room. Daphne was a tall, slim girl with dark hair blue eyes. She and Harry hadn’t spoken much throughout the year, but she was sitting at a table with Tracey Davis. Harry quickly crossed the room, glad to have somebody to talk to.
–You look nice tonight,†Daphne said as Harry sat down.
–Thanks, Tracey picked it out.â€
Daphne smiled. –Oh, I know. Tracey hasn’t been able to stop talking about it.â€
Harry glanced over at Davis, who immediately flopped forward, covering her face with her arms. Despite Davis’ attempts to hide, Harry could still see her ears turning red.
–I’m lucky she came along,†Harry said. –I was completely helpless. My first instinct was to wear school robes, and my second was to copy what Draco had ordered.â€
Daphne laughed. –Oh, that is helpless. Are you certain you don’t belong in Hufflepuff?â€
Harry stuck his tongue out at Daphne. –The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Hufflepuff, you know.â€
–Harry, that’s not something you should say out loud!†Greengrass sat back in her chair and placed an open hand over her mouth. –Wait, are you taking the mickey?â€
Harry shook his head. –Not at all. And when I still wanted Slytherin, it tried to send me to Gryffindor.â€
–What did you do?†Greengrass actually was shocked, at this point. Even Davis had looked up, her curiosity overcoming her embarrassment.
–I insisted on Slytherin. Demanded it, actually.â€
–Wow,†said Daphne. –I don’t know if I could have done that.â€
Harry rubbed his knuckles on his robes. –It’s not that big of a deal. If I could trick the Sorting Hat into putting me into Slytherin, I probably belonged here all along.†Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice. –Are you girls enjoying the party?â€
–It’s a little much,†Daphne said, –but that’s what you get from a Parkinson.â€
–Oh?â€
Tracey sat up and spoke in a quiet voice. –The Greengrasses and the Parkinsons are both old pureblood families. They know each other a little too well, and familiarity breeds contempt.â€
–Not at all,†said Daphne, raising her chin. –What breeds contempt is an entire family’s failure to realize that having money does not require spending it on ostentatious frivolities.†Harry had the impression that Daphne had said that sentence, or something like it, many times before.
As Daphne finished speaking, the Lockhart cake stumbled past. The cake was (unsuccessfully) trying to evade Crabbe and Goyle, who were chasing behind it with forks.
–I fail to see anything ostentatious or frivolous about this party,†Harry said, eyes on the walking cake. He struggled to keep his face perfectly expressionless
–I agree,†said Davis, forcing her mouth into a thin line. –This is obviously serious business.â€
Daphne nodded solemnly. –Business of the most serious kind.â€
The tree students broke out into peals of laughter.
Harry enjoyed his time with Daphne and Tracey. Daphne was easy to talk to, and Tracey, although rather quiet, always seemed to be intensely involved in the conversation. At some point in the evening, Pansy swooped over to Harry’s table. Draco collapsed into a chair next to Harry. Pansy remained standing, nearly bouncing on her heels with excitement.
–Daphne, you absolutely must see the dress my mother bought me!†Pansy was off at a sprint, clearly expecting Daphne to follow.
–Oh, I must.†Daphne glanced over at Tracey. –Come on, Tracey. I’m not doing this alone.†The two girls stood and followed Pansy across the common room.
Harry finally had time to look at Draco. Draco’s tie was loose and askew, his robes had several wrinkles and creases, and there appeared to be a stain on his sleeve.
–What happened to you?†Harry asked.
Draco shook his head. –Pansy. It’s like she’s been drinking Pepper Up Potions all day.â€
–Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?â€
After a few games of cards, Crabbe and Goyle walked by and asked to join. Across the room, the Lockhart cake had collapsed. Massive holes had been torn from its legs and torso. The person or persons responsible were obvious, based on the cake smeared on Crabbe and Goyle’s faces and hands.
Harry re-dealt the cards for four-way. Draco won, which wasn’t surprising to Harry. Harry and Draco had played many games of Exploding Snap, and Draco almost always won. What was surprising to Harry was Crabbe coming in second. Harry had never seen Crabbe display any particular cleverness before.
Goyle was dead last.
As Draco dealt for the next game, a shadow fell over the table. Harry looked up and found Marcus Flint, captain of the Quidditch team, looming over him. He would never admit it, but he had a bit of hero worship for the Slytherin chaser.
–Potter. Malfoy.†Flint was a man of few words.
Harry was too stunned to speak, but Draco played things smooth.
–Flint, hello! Care for a game of Exploding Snap?â€
Flint shook his head. –I came over here to talk. I’ve looked at the flying grades for first years, and you two are the best. Bring your brooms next year. There’ll be an open spot on the team, and we might keep a reserve player.â€
–Got it,†said Draco.
Without another word, Flint turned and walked away.
–But grades haven’t been released,†Goyle said.
–Of course they haven’t,†said Draco. –Flint probably got them from Professor Snape.â€
–But why would Snape have our flying grades?†Goyle’s brow was furrowed as he tried to process what happened.
–I bet Snape got them from Madam Hooch,†said Harry. –He probably does it every year. Tell her that he’s making a midterm evaluation of Slytherin first years, or some other excuse.â€
Draco smiled. –Then he gives the grades to Flint, and Flint can recruit for next year. Better recruiting means better players…â€
–…which is why we keep winning the Quidditch Cup,†said Crabbe. –I like it.â€
The boys resumed their game of Exploding Snap, now excitedly discussing Quidditch. Flint had practically told Harry and Draco that they would make the Quidditch team next year. Harry imagined the roar of the Slytherin crowd in his ears as he swooped about the pitch on his broom… It would be fantastic.
Harry was so distracted that he almost lost to Goyle in his last game.
AN: There are two more chapters after this and then this first story is completed. The next instalment will describe Harry’s second year in Slytherin.